


Out of the Pan

by Wolkemesser



Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: Alara, Bant - Freeform, But here it is, Did this need to be written?, Dominaria, Esper - Freeform, Innistrad, Kaladesh, Radha - Freeform, Teferi Jhoira and Karn mentions, canon mending, enjoooooooy, probably not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-06-06 13:54:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15196196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolkemesser/pseuds/Wolkemesser
Summary: *Finally Completed!*This isn't a story starring Chandra, but it is about Chandra. As much as I love Magic lore, some things about it just bug me. Like how Chandra Nalaar, clearly not meant to look remotely indian, is a child to Kaladeshi parents that look almost nothing like her. I have my own theories how it came to be from a meta perspective, but I decided to develop an in-universe explanation.This fic explores Chandra's origins within the Magic: the Gathering canon, in a way that fits into the existing lore. To that end I have enlisted Venser, a character who himself does not fit very neatly into the timeline during which he is an active, living character (as far as I can tell; I'd be happy to have someone explain to me otherwise).But sometimes the Magic story be like that.Please enjoy!





	1. Chapter 1

 

**Chapter 1**

 

 

The morning had been an uncharacteristically quiet one, by Ghirapur standards. ‘Quiet,’ however, was always a relative term in the city.

The marketplace still buzzed with activity. Vendors still plied their brisk trade in spices, fruits, dried meats, and gleaming mechanical components of every shape, size, and color. Thopters zipped through the air over the crowds, and the occasional skyship drifted past the gaps between buildings.

Still, it had been a morning without explosions, crashes, or any other sort of unscheduled disruption. Consulate guards on patrol stood around making idle chatter, and the streets were (relatively) clear.

So when a small BOOM rocked the streets, mere blocks from the consulate headquarters, the man responsible had the undivided attention of every guard within earshot.

Eighth bridge patrol Haasha was the first on the scene. A small, smoking crater stood to one side of the street. At the center, a soot-stained driver sat upon a bulky (and rather unaesthetic) chair.  
Haasha approached the (vehicle?) carefully. “Sir? Are you alright?”

The driver pulled back a pair of grease-stained goggles. “Finally!” He coughed, his high, excited voice catching on the debris in the air.

The driver’s flesh looked sickly and pale, at least where it wasn’t coated in soot.

“Excuse me…? Sir, your vehicle has partially demolished a public road, in clear violation of ordinance…”

Haasha trailed off as the man stood up and looked around, apparently not listening to her. “What plane is this? Where am I?”

Other patrol guards were starting to arrive.

“Plane..?”

“Uh…City. City, I mean. What, um, what city am I in?”

“This…this is Ghirapur.” Haasha was getting raised eyebrows from the other patrols. “Sir, you will need to move your vehicle and provide funds to repair this street within seventy-two hours. If you do not-”

“Ah, yes, sorry about the street. My ambulator – my um, my vehicle here hasn’t been working exactly right for a while. I’m working on getting the interplanar navigation working properly, but until then the landings are going to be, uh…rough.”

“Interplanar-?”

“Ah, um…forget I said anything.” The man looked around, suddenly nervous. “You have…that is, I see you have skyships here.” He pointed up at the sky over Haasha’s shoulder.

“Yes…of course we do.” She didn’t turn. This strange man wouldn’t be the first dim-witted lawbreaker to try such an obvious ploy as a distraction.

“Where do they make them?”

Haasha blinked. The man sounded earnest. He didn’t seem to grasp the trouble he was in.

One of the other patrol guards, a tall human, cleared his throat. “There are several workshops and factories that produce airships throughout the entire city. Why do you-”

He cut off as Haasha threw him a warning look. He must have been a new recruit.

The stranger nodded. “Splendid, splendid…um,” More patrols had arrived, along with a crowd of curious onlookers; it looked like he was starting to realize the mess he was in. “I don’t suppose one of you could point me in the right direction?” He started toward Haasha, as if to leave.

“Sir, you can’t leave your vehicle here.”

“Hm? Oh!” The man looked behind him, like he hadn’t noticed the throne-vehicle until just then. “Uhhh, sorry about that. One second…”

He leapt back up onto the seat and started pressing switches on the armrest. Then he jumped down again, as the throne started to shudder and shake.

Every consulate guard on the street raised their weapons.

Thwoop

The throne shuddered, and then collapsed inward on itself. The top of the chair caved in like a burning roof, sending up more sparks and smoke.

The man looked halfway between embarrassment and irritation.

“Sorry, uh…about the street, the ambulator hasn’t been working right for interplan….uh, for long-distance travel since I loaned it to my friend. I can, ah…I can clean it up once you direct me to a likely skyship manufacturer?”

Haasha brandished her hammer at the man. “You will come with us. You are under arrest in accordance with consulate directive 43-”

“Arrested?”

“Yes, arrested.” Another guard had produced a pair of vedalken shackles. “We need to sort out all this damage, and how you’ll pay for it.”

“Ah,” The man reached into his bag and pulled out a strange artifact. Some kind of hollow disk. “I, um…I don’t really have the time. Sorry I wrecked your street.” He tossed a small bag of coins at Haasha’s feet. “Here’s some gold.”

He pushed a button on the device.

There was a blue flash, and Haasha averted her eyes. When she looked back, a faint trail of vapor was rising from where the man had stood.

“Hey!”

She wheeled around. There was a commotion in the crowd on the other end of the street, folks were shouting and there was a figure running…

Haasha motioned the others in that direction. “Thopters and automata. Now. We need to catch him.”

The others rushed into the crowd and started to push through the bemused populace. Haasha muscled humans, elves, and vedalken aside, cursing her height. She stopped the young human patrol guard and pulled his collar down to bring his ear to her face.

“Alert the compliance officers, we have a mage loose in the city.”

***

This city was amazing.

The buildings? With their curving spires and clever geometries? Amazing!

All the people, either using or creating or accompanied by some gleaming marvel of invention? Amazing!

The skyships? The thopters? The smell of grease and metal and spices that Venser had no name for? Amazing!

Ghirapur was alive with the sounds and smells of invention. Oiled metal. Thrumming gears. And under it all a strange, invigorating sensation that seemed to flow through everything and everyone.

Hopefully he would have a chance to enjoy this amazing plane before his pursuers caught him.

Now, as Venser glanced over his shoulder at the armed guards sprinting after him, he wished he’d been a bit more careful in his arrival. If there was a world he wanted to explore without pursuit, this was it. Civilized. Considerably less life-threatening than most. Full of other artificers and their inventions. He had been so excited he’d forgotten that most civilized planes have rules.

Three thopters buzzed after him, darting above the heads of the crowd like massive, cat-sized wasps. Every few steps Venser had to check over his shoulder and adjust his path to keep them from gaining on him.

The crowd paid them little mind, and seemed more irritated at Venser for pushing past them than alarmed by the pursuit in his wake.

Venser ducked as one of the thopters swung low, a prong on its underbelly crackling with electricity. His shoulder collided with another man in the crowd, and they both sprawled to the ground. The prong missed him by inches, making the hair on his neck stand up straight.

The crowd parted a bit around them, staring and murmuring.

Perfect.

“Uh, excuse me.” Venser staggered to his hands and knees, feeling at the pockets in his coat, searching. The man under him looked dazed, but otherwise alright.

The thopters were swooping in, converging above with their electrified prongs buzzing louder and louder.

Venser pulled a small grey-metal orb from his belt and threw it up into the air.

There was a small pop, and the air distorted in a five-foot radius. The thopters’ wings froze, and each fell heavily to the ground, parting the crowd around Venser further.

“Wow.”

Venser looked down. He was crouched over-top whoever he had knocked over. The man was young and handsome, with the same dark coffee skin as the rest of the human population, a neat beard, and goggles wrapped around his forehead. He was grinning from ear-to-ear, as if he hadn’t just been knocked to the ground.

“Magnetic wave release to confuse their navigation systems?”

“Uh…to shut them down entirely, actually.” He stood and offered the man his hand. “Kills the link to the power source.”

“That’s quite something.”

“Sorry, uh…” Venser glanced behind him. Through the crowd he could hear the guards shouting and shoving through the crowd in hot pursuit. “I should get going. Sorry for the trouble.”

“Consulate trouble?” The man looked back into the crowd. The shouts were getting louder with every second. He smiled and touched a hand to his breast. “Kiran Nalaar. I might be able to help with that.”

He turned, nodding his head for Venser to follow, and started off down the street.

Venser gave the matter a half-second consideration before plunging in after him.


	2. Out of the Pan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Venser gets a bit more acquainted with the city of Ghirapur, and some of its more interesting citizens, the Nalaars!

This new companion, Kiran, led Venser behind stalls, down alleys, and straight through several crowded streets. His pace was hurried, but he didn’t run or push anyone aside, so that there was no trail of angry city-goers in their wake to mark their escape. Venser fought with himself not to glance back and check on their pursuit, partly as to not give himself away, and partly so he did not lose sight of Kiran, who weaved briskly through the crowds like an adder through a marsh.

Fifteen minutes later, both of them were leaned up against opposite walls in an alleyway, breathing heavily. The patrol had lost them, and now the dwarves and humans among them were a block ahead, puffing and panting after their tireless but equally fooled automata.

Kiran’s forehead was dotted with minute beads of sweat. He wiped his brow with one hand, then made a strange gesture, like he was pulling up goggles that weren’t there. “What sort of trouble did you get up to friend?”

Venser cocked his head, trying to make sense of the gesture. Kiran seemed to register his conclusion and hastily lowered his hand. He put one hand on his knee, and extended the other to Venser. “Welcome to Ghirapur, Mr.…..”

“Venser…Uh, just Venser.” He offered his own hand, and they shook, the sweat and grease on their fingers smearing together. “Thank you for the save. I’m sorry to take you out of your way.”

“Think nothing of it. I was headed this way anyways, and I need to be in a rush.” Kiran pushed off the wall and inhaled deeply. “Best of luck in our beautiful city, Mr. Venser.”

And he turned on his heels and started down the alley, moving quickly.

“W-wait!”

Venser’s chest felt like it was full of needles, but he started off after Kiran all the same, at as brisk a jog as he could manage, just barely keeping pace with his new acquaintance. “I…I hate…to impose, but…a guide…I could use...”

“…a guide?”

“Someone who knows the city – or can help me find what I’m looking for.”

Kiran nodded, but did not reply right away. They continued to run until they hit another main street, where they fell back into their pace of briskly pushing through the growing market crowds.

“And what is it you’re looking for, Venser?”

“Inventors.”

Kiran laughed. A breathless sort of wheeze. “You’ll have more trouble _not_ finding one of those in Ghirapur.”

“I need the very best. It’s a very ambitious project.”

Kiran nodded toward one of the buildings ahead. A wide building of white stone. “If you can spare the time to wait on me, I think I can help.”

“This has been my life’s work; I can afford to wait a little while.” Venser rubbed his chin. “Better than arrest, at least.”

“Wonderful. I’m already late as it is.”

They swept into the building, and a sudden miasma of sickness and sterility assaulted Venser’s nostrils. They had entered a large antechamber, filled with glum-looking people filling out stacks of paperwork, and a few others from all the different races native to the plane. All bore a mixture of bandages, broken limbs, or burns.

“A hospital?”

Kiran nodded. “A hospital; I’m here to see my – one second.” He gave a name to a bored-looking vedalken nurse and she gestured to a doorway behind her. Kiran went through, with Venser close behind.

The hospital beyond was a tightly-organized yet crowded network of hallways. Kiran looked only a little less lost than Venser felt.

“Who are you looking for?” Venser tried to stand on his toes to look over the doctors and the sick filling the corridors. “Perhaps one of the nurses could-”

“KIRAAAAN”

The shout rang through the hallways over every other sound in the building.

“Ah, there.” Kiran sprinted down the hallway, weaving through nurses and physicians with the same swiftness that he had navigated the crowds.

Venser kept hot on his heels, though he was feeling more and more uncomfortable the further he went. Something about the hospital atmosphere made him feel like he was intruding…

Kiran dashed into one of the rooms past the outstretched arms of a vedalken nurse.

“Sir, sir you cannot-”

“I’m the husband, it’s fine!” Kiran’s voice was strained and breathless.

_Husband…? Is he visiting his wife?_

Another bellowing scream came from the room Kiran had just entered. At the very last moment, Venser put two and two together and skidded to a halt, right before turning the corner. The vedalken nurse was giving him a wary look, and he backed off, hands raised.

“I’ll um…I’ll wait. Friend of the family.”

The screams quickly turned into hoarse grunts of pain, now mixed with a halting stream of encouragement and reassurances from Kiran.

 

***

 

The nurse escorted Venser out into an adjacent hallway, and he waited for several hours, growing increasingly anxious. He might have left altogether if not for the constant parade of fascinating machines that the hospital employed. There were the carts of surgical tools, all curved in such a way that Venser couldn’t tell whether the intent was functional or ornamental, larger devices powered by canisters filled with some kind of blue plasma. It was fuel of some sort, but unlike any other power source Venser had encountered. What sort of substance flowed like wind and glowed like powerstones?

What was that curious metal glove device for?

And that construct? How did it fly so nimbly when it was constructed entirely out of metal?

And that mechanical limb…!

And…! And…!

Venser realized as he took in all of these strange new gadgets that that undercurrent that seemed to be everywhere on the air here wasn’t a spice – it was this strange, glowing fuel. Something about it reminded him of oil, but cleaner, more organic.

“Venser!”

He snapped his head up. Kiran was at his side, looking at him with a confused smile.

“Something interesting?”

“That substance-” Venser pointed at one of the canisters connected to a gilded wheelchair. “-what is it?”

Kiran gave him an even curiouser look. “Do you – do you mean the Aether?”

“Ah!” Suspicious or not, Venser couldn’t keep from clapping his hands together. “Aether repurposed as fuel! How efficient!”

“You…really are new around here, aren’t you?” Kiran prodded the back of Venser’s hand gingerly, like he expected it to catch fire. “You aren’t Aetherborn, are you? You certainly don’t _look_ like you were born yesterday.”

“Aetherborn? What is-” This time Venser stopped himself, and looked around the hall. Thankfully, everyone within earshot too busy to pay them much mind, beyond a few glares for clogging up the hallway.

“This way.” Kiran nodded down the hall, back toward where the screaming had come from. “We can talk somewhere more private. I’ll introduce you to my wife.”

The room was clean, and much quieter now. A woman, covered in sweat and puffy-eyed, was reclined upon a bed – white linens and cushioning set atop silver filigree legs, and interwoven with tubes carrying more of that blue, glowing stuff – the Aether.

“Your mystery friend, darling?”

The woman appraised Venser through one weary, half-closed eyelid.

“Pia, this is Venser. Venser, Pia…my wife.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” Venser wasn’t sure if he should offer his hand, or bow…actually, he wasn’t sure yet what constituted a proper greeting on this plane.

“Venser is looking for…well, inventors.”

Pia laughed, a short, weary sound. “Has he tried looking out the window? What sort of inventor are you looking for, Venser? A lifecrafter? A gearhulk manufacturer? Or are you a racer?”

“I’m…I’m a traveler.” Venser unslung his traveling pack and reached into it. “And an inventor myself, but I’m reaching the limits of what my home pla-er, what my hometown can offer me. You have some of the finest engineers here-” _That won’t try to kill me,_ Venser thought “-and, well, as for who I want to talk to…someone who builds airships would be a good start.”

“Airships…? I took you for someone wanting to keep a low profile.” Kiran raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t a pirate, are you?”

“A pirate-? No, no just an inventor, like I said. Here-” Venser pulled something out of his pack. It was an oblong disk, about the size of a loaf of bread, convex on one side with a small hole in the middle, lined with flat powerstones. “This is my latest project, I…it’s an ambulator…like a teleporter. It can take you to different planes, er…to different places automatically. I’ve got another one about the size of…about the size of one of those racing machines you have in the city. My ambulator. I’ve figured out how to make a more compact one, but I can only move very small objects with it. I need to start thinking bigger.”

He held the device up for them to inspect.

Pia raised an eyebrow. Kiran frowned, looking openly dubious. All the same, he accepted the device from Venser, and showed it to his wife.

Pia ran a hand over the surface of the device. “You said it…carries you from place to place?”

“Uh, more or less, yes.”

“Like…a flight-pack?”

“Better than flight! One moment…” Venser fiddled with the control panels, set along the inside of the portable walker. A quick demonstration would show them the value of his invention.

“Let’s see…somewhere relatively simple and safe for a test run…how about…”

Kiran held up a hand. “Perhaps this isn’t the place.” He laid a hand on his wife’s shoulder.

Pia took his hand. “For goodness’ sake, Kiran, I’m not dying. I want to see what he’s working on.”

“You should be sleeping. You just gave birth.”

“Um…I was actually wondering…” Venser felt he was intruding, but he couldn’t contain his curiosity. “Where _is_ your child? Did they…take them?” he thought back to some of the mechanical enhancements he’d seen in the city and sorely hoped that he hadn’t simply landed on a shinier version of Phyrexia.

Pia snorted. “Consulate hospitals; they insist on keeping Chandra under sterile surveillance for two days, and on keeping _me_ here for ‘recuperation.’” Here she gave her husband a small frown. “We should have gone somewhere local. Oviya could have found a place.”

Kiran squeezed her shoulder. “I wasn’t going to take any chances with either of you.”

Venser awkwardly lowered the portable walker back into his bag. “Perhaps you’re right. I should…I can find another guide, perhaps. I’ve already imposed on you a great deal.”

“Not at all!” Kiran smiled, but now Venser recognized the worry behind his eyes. “Let us offer you a place to stay tonight and we’ll figure out where you ought to go. It’s been an exhausting day already.”


	3. Out of the Pan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Venser takes a breather after the excitement of fleeing the consulate to enjoy the sights, sounds, and people of Ghirapur.

 

Kiran and Pia had a modest two-room flat overlooking one of the smaller squares in Ghirapur. It was cramped, but plenty of space for two people. Venser found it cozy, having lived most of his life in the swamps, and Kiran seemed perfectly at home, preparing plates and flatbread to accompany their meal. He’d purchased fruit and a steaming basket of curried yams for their supper.

He was, as far as Venser could judge, pleased to have company, but also a bit suspicious of his new guest.

Venser was himself a bit more guarded than he had been earlier at the hospital. The portable ambulator still lay in his bag, and he was less sure about showing it off, despite the privacy of the quarters.

They ate seated on sagging cushions at a low table, looking out over the marketplace. The setting sun brought out colors in Ghirapur’s skyline, and a pleasant breeze drifted past the open window, seasoning their meal with the scents of the city.

“Ah,” Kiran pointed a mango-slick hand out toward the square. “We’ve got a show tonight.”

Business in the market was tapering off for the day. Vendors were collapsing their stalls and moving them aside to make space for two groups of youngsters, a mix of humans, dwarves, and vedalken. Each was fussing over a cart covered over with tarps. One group’s tarp concealed something tall and pointy. The other had something squat and bulbous underneath.

“An exhibition?” Venser asked through a mouthful of curry-drenched bread.

“Something like that.” Kiran was smiling faintly, watching the groups as he wiped pulp from his fingers.

The leaders of each group were shaking hands. The rest were busy pushing the carts to opposite ends of the plaza. A few of the merchants and market-goers were clearing out, though more were hanging around the edges of the clearing, all plainly interested in whatever was about to happen.

The group with the squat object under the tarp reached the edge of the square first, and one of the youths, a gangly vedalken, pulled the cloth off the cart with a quick tug. The thing underneath started to move immediately.

Venser whistled in admiration: the construct looked faintly like a turtle, with broad, spherical wheels where the legs would have been. The shell itself was a jointed arrangement of gleaming plates, interlocked and etched with swirling patterns. Its movements were startlingly smooth and organic, and it leapt from the lip of the wagon with admirable grace.

Across the plaza the other team had unveiled something similarly breathtaking: A four-armed humanoid made of gleaming steel. The torso ended in four long, spidery legs. The head, arms, shoulders, and legs were bristling with curving spikes.

The groups both stood aside as the constructs began to circle the plaza, rolling and crawling with all the natural smoothness of living, breathing creatures. Together they captured both the sturdiness and beauty of all the best artifice Venser had seen in the city.

“Any second now…” Kiran was leaning up against the window railing, his smirk growing deeper, creasing the coffee skin of his jaw. “…Now.”

The spider-construct lunged forward, crossing the plaza in four rapid bounds. It stopped just inches from the turtle and let inertia carry its upper body forward, landing a powerful jab that produced a sound like a dozen church bells as it struck the shell.

If the turtle-construct was damaged in any meaningful way by the punch, it didn’t show. The wheels started spinning with alarming velocity, sending sparks up off the pavement, and it wheeled around to face the spider. A squat, beaked head popped out from a shielded compartment and seized one of the other construct’s legs. The spider responded with more rapid strikes, producing shallow dents in the shell.

Venser was transfixed. He’d dreamed of making machines like this as a child. Guardians to protect him from Urborg’s glade-hunters. Tools to help him craft. A machine to take him away from the swamps…

“Enjoying the show?”

Kiran was grinning at him. Venser realized he was pressing his own face against the railing to get a better look. Down below, the turtle-construct had managed to tear one of the spider’s legs off.

No, the spider had detached its own leg, and was now trying to dig its spikes under the turtle’s shell, circling the smaller construct as it did so to keep away from that powerful beak.

“And the city allows this?”

“With permits. They make a lot of money off of spectacle fights and the races, but as long as you pay your dues and fill out the right papers…and adhere to the proper consulate building standards…well, you can have a bit of fun.”

“Ah.” Venser pointed down into the plaza, where the turtle had pinned another leg, and was trying to climb on top of the spider. “Are _those_ consulate approved?”

“Doubtful. Nor is it likely that those kids have enough money to-ah, yes, right on time.” Kiran spat the last few words out like poison.

One of the groups was rushing across the courtyard, and shouting something at the others. A second later, several consulate guards burst onto the scene, with two tall humanoid constructs in tow. Each was shorter than the spider-construct, but solidly built, like golden filigree prizefighters.

Venser frowned. “They were being careful with their constructs. I don’t see why-”

His next words were drowned out as one of the golden constructs grabbed the spider (still half-trapped under the turtle) and slammed it into the cobblestones, smashing the head apart like an egg.

The guards fell on the youths, throwing them to the ground up against the walls. A handful tried to shield the remaining construct. About half of them simply ran, leaving their inventions behind. 

Venser was on his feet by then, gripping the rail.

“What are they doing!?”

“What the consulate always does. Squash any activity that doesn’t benefit them.” Kiran had gotten up and pulled something out of a drawer: a thopter, only slightly larger than his hand. “We gave them control of the aether to distribute it fairly. We let them regulate our constructs for our safety. Now all they do is try to claim everything for their own. Grab that parchment for me please. In the drawer under the table.”

“Should…should we help them?”

Kiran shook his head. “If we go down there they’ll just arrest us. I’m sending a message to a friend. She can help the ones still on the run get somewhere safe. The parchment.”

Venser grabbed a sheet from the drawer and handed it to Kiran. Kiran tore off a corner and made several notations in a shorthand that Venser couldn’t quite decipher. Then he slipped the parchment into a clip on the thopter’s underbelly and let it go out the window.

“There.” Kiran watched the thopter buzz across the plaza and out of sight. “Oviya will do what she can.”

“Oviya?”

Kiran froze, and looked at Venser for a moment as if he was just realizing he had a guest in his home.

“It’s not important. She’s a friend who helps people.”

“Ah.” Venser looked down at the food on the table. “That was…I apologize, that was more inquisitive than I should have been. You’ve already been very kind.” He pulled a powerstone out of his pocket and started rolling it between his fingers.

“You haven’t given me any reason to distrust you,” Kiran said, hesitant, “but there are things about my life that I can’t share with just anyone.”

“Of course.”

Venser lowered himself back down to the floor, and dragged a fold of bread through the curry on his plate. Kiran sat down beside him, and they watched the guards pull the spider out of the turtle’s jaw. The consulate constructs had pulled the turtle’s plates back, and deactivated whatever power source kept it moving. The rest of the youths had fled.

“They would have killed me for making something like that back home.” Venser rolled the spent powerstone between his hands; it was a leftover battery from his first successful ambulator. Now he kept it for good luck. “They were afraid. Afraid because machines had killed their ancestors, and that machine might kill them as well. I always thought that if only they were more fearless, more ambitious, Urborg could have been more than marshes and misery.”

Venser turned to look out the window, where the guards were beginning to dismantle the machines. “But I guess ambition can spoil things as well. Ambition and greed.”

Kiran nodded. “Is that why you’re here? Too much fear of artifice where you’re from?”

“Things are changing, and we have other problems besides.”

Kiran nodded, and was silent for a short while. When he spoke again, his voice was still strained by hesitancy, but warmer.

“What do you want with a skyship? In my experience the only people that need ships designed custom are the consulate and pirates. I’m fairly confident you’re not in league with the consulate, and quite honestly I have a hard to imagining you as a pirate, so what’s your goal?”

 Venser rubbed his hands together. “Can I trust you with a secret?”

“Well, I wouldn’t blame you for not trusting me, all things considered.” Kiran leaned forward, hands on his knees. “But yes. The only person I won’t keep secrets from is my wife. Is that agreeable?”

Venser bit his lip, and nodded. “It’ll have to do.” He set the portable ambulator on the table between them. “I’m from another place. One that doesn’t tolerate…well, one that doesn’t _celebrate_ artifice the way you do here in Ghirapur. I worked almost all my life to escape from that place, and in the process…

Venser tapped the edge of the ambulator. “My first machines were much bulkier than this. But in the end, and with a little help, they worked. I was able to go…elsewhere.”

He looked up Kiran was sort of squinting at him with one eyebrow raised, like he was doing his utmost to not question Venser’s sanity.

 _That’s fair,_ Venser thought.

“The place…the place I come from, Kiran, it can’t be reached by most people, unless they have a machine like the one I’ve built.”

“ _Most_ people?”

“People not like me.” Venser stood and walked away from the table.

Then away from the plane.

A second later he was walking back through the swamps of Urborg, just outside his workshop. He reached down and pulled up a flower, one unique to the swamps, and walked back to where he had just come.

Kiran was at the table, gaping at the space Venser had vacated and re-occupied, all in the matter of a minute.

Venser placed the flower, now withered into a small pile of ashes, on the table.

“I can move between worlds, but there are limitations. I can’t take anything organic with me, and I can’t take anyone else. Before I got this…this gift, I was working on making a machine that could travel the way I can naturally. An ambulator to take me to other worlds. But the world…all the worlds have changed in the past few years. The technology doesn’t work anymore.”

Kiran frowned. “Just like that?”

“Just like that. Well, it’s less that the technology doesn’t work and more that…the laws of the multiverse that the technology interacted with haven’t been the same since…”

“Since…?”

“It’s a long story. One I promise I’ll tell you someday. I’m probably not the right person to tell it anyway. This sort of technology used to be much more common, or so I’ve been told.”

 “Told by who?”

“The people like me…they used to not be people at all. When I first found others like me, they were like gods. Immortal. All-powerful. It’s not like that anymore. The world… _all_ the worlds are different.” Venser swallowed. “Anyways, that’s not the point. Once upon a time, on my world, there was a ship. A skyship, not entirely unlike the ones you have here. This ship was not bound by the skies, or by the barriers that separate our worlds. _Weatherlight,_ they called it, built on technology completely unlike my own device, but with the same purpose. I want to use this technology-” He tapped the ambulator. “-to bring that same freedom to the world. To every world. I don’t know if it can even be done, but I have to try. I’ve seen too much suffering in the worlds I’ve visited not to try.”

Kiran’s left eyebrow was about to disappear into his dark locks. “Okay, assuming I believe you, and I’m not quite sure _what_ I believe right now, what would you need?”

 “Well, inventors of course, but…” Venser turned to the window. The grim disassembly was still underway. A few of the guards were actually kicking the turtle’s head to help dislodge it. “Inventors of vision. Inventors who build for the good of others.”

Kiran nodded, fingers templed.

“I might know people like that. Or rather, I might know someone who knows people like that.” He inclined his hands toward the window. “The friend I mentioned before. Her wife used to work in skyship manufacturing.”

“And…would she be willing to help?”

“That will be a matter for Oviya to decide herself. We’ll see what she and Pia make of your…plight. For now, I think we could both use some sleep.”


	4. Out of the Pan

 

 

Pia reacted much better to Venser’s story than her husband did. Her eyebrows raised too, but in excitement, rather than skepticism.

“It’s a good project. Invention ought to expand our horizons, not limit them.”

“That’s my hope.” Venser found himself pacing and gesturing as he spoke, despite the cramped quarters of the hospital room. “The _Weatherlight_ has fought off invasions, destroyed conquerors, and even evacuated an entire plane on the verge of collapse. If we could create another plane-crossing vessel, maybe even a fleet of them, we could do some real good for a lot of worlds. Almost every-”

Pia held up a hand. “That’s where you lose me, Venser. Instantaneous travel from point A to point B…that’s revolutionary. What you’re talking about sounds like fantasy.”

“Understandable. I would have thought the same thing a few years ago. Just a moment-”

This time Venser ‘walked to the swamps beyond his workshop. Years ago, when he’d first met Jhoira and Teferi, and he’d learned (in the most obtuse, drawn-out way possible) that he was a planeswalker, time rifts had been dumping ice age-era phyrexians all over Urborg. Despite The best efforts of the gladehunters, caches of their remains still littered parts of the continent. Venser pulled off a likely piece: the exoskelatonal skull of a phyrexian scuta, and ‘walked back to the hospital.

The look on Pia’s face was gratifyingly stunned. Venser grinned and placed the metal skull in her hands.

“From my world. Or not. A visitor to my world that didn’t get what its master wanted. They were mostly inorganic, so their remains transport pretty well.”

Pia turned it over in her hands. The phyrexian design was so unlike anything Venser had seen yet in Ghirapur. It seemed like a prime artifact to prove his ability.

“What…what _was_ it?”

“An invader. ‘phyrexians’ they were called. This was thankfully one of the last ones. They traveled from plane to plane, killing inhabitants, hunting down other artifacts of power, spreading death and plagues wherever they…” Venser looked around him. “…maybe I shouldn’t have brought it to a hospital…”

Kiran had already plucked it out of Pia’s lap and was holding it like a bomb. Pia looked awestruck.

“Whole other worlds…how many?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think anyone does.”

“Amazing…”

“Revolutionary, even.”

They all turned their attention to the older woman reclining in a guest chair by the window. Kiran had introduced her as Oviya Pashiri, and she was one of the more remarkable individuals Venser had met in his travels. No less than four automata accompanied her – two birds, a small fox, and a glittering monkey. For all the constructs Venser had seen so far in Ghirapur, hers were the most convincingly lifelike. Even now, they were hopping and crawling around the floor, rather than standing still, even though she had not given them any directions.

For her own part, she looked remarkably blasé about Venser’s planeswalking.

“This is the sort of technology that could change lives for the better. Mass transportation between worlds…it’s unheard of.”

“Well, I’m still working on the mass part.” Venser scratched the back of his head. “So far I’ve, uh…really only had success with small stuff…loafs of bread, stuff about that size, and not all of it arrives intact.” He handed the ambulator to Ms. Pashiri. “I’ve got to get this working before I go any bigger, but I also need to know what kind of ships I’ll be able to equip it to.”

“I can introduce you to some of the greatest minds in the city.” She turned it slowly in her hands, eyes taking in every switch and facet. “Inventors who would love to help with this sort of project. _If_ you can demonstrate to me that it works. Consistently and safely.”

“Agreed. I’d still like to meet with someone you trust while I’m working on this; just to direct my-”

Venser cut off quickly as a vedalken nurse entered the room, bearing a covered tray. The nurse looked more than a little annoyed at so many non-patients having crammed themselves into the space, but made no comment.

“Ms. Nalaar, I’ve brought lunch.”

Pia looked tempted by the tray for a split second before frowning at the nurse. “I would prefer to see my daughter.”

“Consulate mandate requires-”

“For goodness sake!” Kiran threw his hands up. “Is this a hospital or a consulate bureaucracy?”

“It’s both, actually.” The nurse set the tray down by Pia’s bedside. “I can assure you your daughter is perfectly well, we are simply making sure-”

“We can take care of Chandra without any help, thank you.”

“Of course, but we observe a certain protocol here.” The nurse bowed, a bit stiffly, but with a sympathetic smile. “Soon enough, Ms. Nalaar. Please excuse me.”

The nurse closed the door behind her, and a small, soft fruit struck it a second later as Pia took out her displeasure on part of her lunch.

Kiran lay a hand across her shoulders. “My love, don’t get too worked up. You need to rest still.”

“I don’t _want_ to rest, Kiran, I want to get out of this place. Go back to making things. I want to be with my daughter.” She lay back against her pillow, and gave her lunch a sulky look.

“How much longer will they make you wait?”

“Another day at least,” Ms. Pashiri was shaking her head slowly. “Leave it to the consulate to deny us the most basic privileges.” She whistled, and the monkey-construct ambled over to the door and started gathering up the fallen bits of fruit.

“Leave it Oviya.” Pia was eyeing the rest of her food, but leaving it resolutely untouched. “The fascists can clean it up themselves.”

“There’s also the matter of the hospital fee - Not to worry though!” Kiran added, as his wife gave him a mildly alarmed look. “I’ve got a job lined up with Ankit and his crew to make up some money.”

“Legitimate?”

“Not technically.”

Pia nodded. “Well, I suppose I approve, then.”

 

**

 

They stayed in the hospital a while longer, Ms. Pashiri and Pia regaling Venser with some of the most interesting anecdotes about their own work in artifice. Constructs had never been his area of expertise, but their knowledge had been so broad and inclusive that he regretted not traveling with anything to take notes on. He supposed he could have ‘walked back to the workshop for paper, but leaving the world mid-conversation seemed impolite. The sort of thing Jhoira used to get irritated at Teferi for.

Afterwards, Kiran had taken him to the marketplace to get dinner. The streets were packed tighter than they had been the previous afternoon, and there was the unmistakable aura of celebration everywhere, from the twirling streamers draped over the entrance of every street to the more colorful and (if possible) more elaborate clothing to be seen.

“A celebration for the city’s founding,” Kiran explained. “Just for the evening and tomorrow. You’ll have to stick around for one of our _really_ long festivals once summer starts.”

They found a stall selling skewers of grilled bandar and pockets of fried dough stuffed with potatoes and spices.

“Samosas,” Kiran explained.

Other stalls were selling fragrant spirits, skywhale curry, and little handheld aether lamps that more and more people seemed to carry as the night got darker.

Between the lights and the thick crowds, Venser felt dazzled and more than a little lost.

“The food will be cold by the time we get back.” Kiran looked around the square. “Unless…follow me.”

He led Venser to one of the buildings along the edge of the square: a residential building built atop a servo inspection office. They slipped through the throngs of celebrants and made their way up a long, winding stairwell that ended in a long service balcony at the top of the structure.

Kiran gestured toward the railing. “There you go. Best seats in the house.”

It was hard to argue. Below, the citizens of Ghirapur were spread out across the square and the connecting streets; mingling, laughing, and some even twirling to the hypnotic, wailing music of the qawalli singers in the center of the square. Overhead, ships festooned with pastel streamers drifted silently through the night sky.

 The food was still lukewarm by the time they got comfortable. Personally Venser thought it could have been ice-cold and he still would have enjoyed the flavor of it. As it was, the chicken melted in his mouth, and the Samosas were wonderfully flaky on the outside, with a spicy filling that made Venser's eyes water.

Venser perked up as he heard something whistling above them in the sky. A second later there was a _boom_ , and a burst of rainbow-colored sparks spread across the blackness.

In another second the sky began to fill with more fireworks, and a canvas of multicolored stars rippled across the night.

 “Impressive how quickly all of this went up.” Venser pointed with an empty skewer towards the musician’s stage and at the skyships. “I wouldn’t have guessed it was a special occasion when we were out this morning.”

“Mmmm.” Kiran nodded thoughtfully, still chewing on his food.

“Are most of your festivals like this?”

Kiran swallowed, and scratched his chin. “The inventor’s fair certainly has a lot of build-up, but a lot more people come to that, from all over. The consulate hosts that one, technically, but most of what makes it interesting is the work of the people. You should stay for that. It’s much more fun. Fewer rules. The consulate is good and organized, but that doesn’t always make for the best parties.”

Venser bit into a samosa and chewed thoughtfully. Down in the streets, the music was growing louder and faster. Vedalken, dwarves, elves and humans danced together, whirling and jumping and clapping and wailing along to the music. It all felt so pleasant. He didn’t want to believe that such a wonderful world could have such an unpleasant authority ruling over it.

“There’ll be a race at some point,” Kiran pointed to a lane along the plaza where guards were marking a clear space with gilded fencing. “You might enjoy that. World-jumping dragsters would be quite something.”

“And that’s approved? Seems just as dangerous as having constructs fight in public.”

“Consulate approved danger. Very different.”

“Seems like everyone manages to have a bit of fun, even with all the rules in place,” Venser remarked.

Kiran nodded, though his lips were pursed. “They’ve got to have consulate-approved festivities often enough to keep the city placated. All tyrants walk a thin line between regulating their citizens and pandering to them.” There was a slight edge to his voice.

“It’s not all as shiny as it looks, I guess?”

“Not as shiny,” Kiran agreed, then sighed. “There’s so much I love about this city. The hope of the people. The spirit of invention in their souls. This could be the greatest place in the world. On _any_ world, I’d even say, but there’s nothing to be done about the greedy and the powerful, or the ones who mindlessly enforce the will of the greedy and powerful.”

His voice had an edge to it, but his eyes didn’t seem quite as hard. He was looking out at the crowd, but almost as if he was looking past them, to something under the city that Venser couldn’t see.

“I suppose…I suppose I’ll have to be careful.” Venser set his plate aside. “I want what I build here to help, but…if the wrong people got ahold of it…”

Kiran nodded. “That had crossed my mind.”

“I’m sorry.” Venser bit his lip. “I…I’d be lying if I said I’d given a lot of thought to the consequences to your world before today. But I trust your judgement on the matter, and if you think it would make things worse-”

“No. No not at all.” Kiran smiled at Venser, and his eyes seemed a bit less faraway. “Pia was right. It’s a good project with a lot of potential. You just need to be…discreet.”

“Discretion, right.” Venser’s cheek curled into a wry smirk. “I’ll try to learn.”

They sat there together a while longer, through bursts of fireworks, a small drag-race that ran along the outer edge of the main plaza, and all sorts of dancing down below. At some point the singers ceded the stage to a group of Vedalken musicians, who played on aether-powered instruments, backed by a massive, circular construct that produced tunes all on its own, like some oversized music box. The music was loud, fast, and thrilling. Even Kiran got to his feet, and showed Venser the dance that went with it.

They were both laughing and sweating by the time they decided to retire back to the Nalaar’s home.

A pair of dwarves in consulate gear sprinted past them on the stairs as they were leaving. The first had an armful of fireworks, the second a bottle of wine in each hand. Kiran shook his head as they passed.

“We’ll have plenty of company tomorrow.”


	5. Out of the Pan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to heat up here! The consulate being the consulate, they have naturally pulled a bit of bureaucratic foolery that the Nalaars and their new friend will no abide~

 

 

As Kiran had predicted, the hospital was packed with even more injured humans, dwarves, and elves than the past two days. There was even a vedalken or two bearing small injuries from the festivities,but they were the minority.

The hallways were so crowded with patients and staff trying to keep them in order that Kiran and Venser didn’t make out the small cluster of officials standing outside of Pia’s room until he’d almost run straight into them. Two wore the uniforms of the patrol, and Venser hastily ducked to the other side of the hallway as they turned, coughing and doing his very best impression of a sick man.

“What’s all this?” Kiran pushed past them into the room. “Pia! Are you there?” Venser risked a look and saw Kiran pushing past them into the room. The officials at the door seemed preoccupied by whatever was going on inside, so Venser snuck closer.

“…deeply apologize, of course, but the hospital has expenses, and we can’t give out free care-“

“I’ve been here _three days_. How could we have possibly cost you so much?”

“This is entirely standard for consulate hospitals, ma’am. The hike in fees was approved last month-”

“That is my _child_.” Venser couldn’t see Pia, but the fire in her voice was tangible. “You can’t take my child away. You don’t have the right!”

“As we said, your child is receiving the very best care we have to offer.” The official speaking, a stout human doctor with filigree patterns over his coat, was rubbing his hands together. “They will be returned promptly upon payment for your stay. We will even waive immediate charges for the treatment your child will receive in the meantime, so you may pay in installments-“

“Thank you.” That voice was Ms. Pashiri’s. “You’ve said what you need to say, I think. You may leave.”

“When might we expect..?”

“You. Can. leave.”

Venser couldn’t see Ms. Pashiri either, from where he was lurking, but whatever look she was giving was enough to make the guards back away from the room, followed by the red-faced hospital official.

What kind of hospital employed armed guards?

Pia was out of bed, dressed in a burgundy outfit that resembled the sort of clothing Venser had seen the artificers in the city don while working. Her face was red, and her hands, just visible below the flared sleeves of her clothing, were clenched into formidable fists.

“How much did they say?”

Pia muttered something under her breath to Kiran that made some of the color drain out of his face. He fell into a chair by the foot of the bed.

“I’m going to get Chandra out of here, I promise.”

“Kiran, we don’t have the money-”

“I’m not talking about paying them. I’m going to take our daughter back from these people, and we are leaving the city.”

Ms. Pashiri clucked her tongue. “Don’t be foolish, Kiran. I’m sure we can get enough money together to put this behind us. I’ll talk to my renegade contacts. We have a comrade who works in the emergency ward here. She’ll be on duty in the next two days-”

“This is madness!” Pia slammed her hand against the wall. “I want my child _now_!”

Venser cleared his throat.

“I think…I think maybe I could help.”

All three of them turned their eyes toward him.

“No-one in this city knows me. If I can find out where they’re keeping your daughter I can get past their security, and they’ll never know you had anything to do with it.”

Pia shook her head. “The doctors have seen you in here with us. If you’re spotted-”

“I’ll wear a mask.”

The three of them were looking at him with raised eyebrows now. Ms. Pashiri looked as if she were about to laugh.

“I have a mask already, that is. For…for my work.” He felt his cheeks grow a little hot. “But it will hide my face, so….”

Kiran shook his head. “We can’t just ask you to-”

“I accept.”

Pia was strode over to Venser and put out her hand. “Bring my daughter to me and we will introduce you to the very best shipbuilders in the city. Renegade shipbuilders. People with _real_ vision.”

Venser took her hand and shook it. Her grip was strong and certain.

Ms. Pashiri rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “We’d have to get Pia and Kiran somewhere public while you’re doing this. Somewhere witnesses can vouch for them having been.” She nodded toward the door, where patients and doctors were still filing past. “We should also continue this somewhere else, where we won’t be overheard.”

“Venser I…I appreciate this, but are you sure?” Kiran whispered to him as they walked out of the room, “The consulate rules might be comically absurd, but their security is nothing to joke about. They won’t let anyone from the outside just wander into the high-security wings of this place.”

Venser tapped at his coat, where the portable ambulator lay strapped against his chest. “Going places I’m not meant to is my specialty. Now, where could I find a storage room or a maintenance closet around here?”

 

***

 

The hospital had a full day after that, seeing to a steady stream of citizens injured in fair and fair-adjacent activities. It wasn’t until almost midnight that the parade trailed off and the staff could start to breath.

Still, it was a return to regular activity rather than a true break, and most of the staff was left quite tired, so no-one noticed when a small flash of blue light glinted beneath the door of the custodial closet.

Inside, a planeswalker smirked to himself.

Venser pressed an ear against the inside of the closet and held his breath. He had taken the long way out of the hospital with Kiran, taking note of less populated corridors, and identifying the place where the newborns were kept for care and observation. This closet was the closest discreet location that occupied a lesser-traversed hallway of the building.

He had stored the exact spatial coordinates on the ambulator, and they had left. With those coordinates, it was almost trivial for Venser to planeswalk out of Kaladesh and back to the location of the closet.

The sound of a single pair of feet was coming closer. Venser pressed himself against one side of the doorframe so as to be behind it if it swung open. He could hear his heart hammering.

It wasn’t nearly as dangerous a task as hiding from gladehunters, but the thought of being found was still mortifying.

The steps neared and then started to grow faint again, step by step. Another few seconds and the sound faded away. All Venser could hear now were faint coughs. Coughs and the constant whir of mechanism and aether that it seemed impossible to escape in this city.

A quick peek revealed the hallway to be empty, and Venser slipped out.

After seeing his mask, the Nalaars had deemed it too conspicuous to go on a recovery mission with. Ms. Pashiri had supplied bandages to cover up Venser’s relatively light face and hair, and Venser was covered shoulder-to foot in a layered hospital gown. Pia had lent Venser the garments she’d snuck out with her. She said she hadn’t had any plans of sneaking back with it at the time, and Venser suspected she enjoyed the simple thrill of taking from the consulate.

He could understand that. He felt a similar thrill at that very moment.

The hallways were slightly darker at night, illuminated by glowing tubes of aether that ran along to floor and ceiling. Venser affected a small limp as he went, and coughed whenever a doctor passed, trying to match the cadence of the sick he heard in the rooms, but trying not to be so loud anyone stopped to check on him.

Whether his act was that good or the staff just that apathetic, Venser made it to the doors of the newborn ward unmolested.

The guards to the outer door were both automata; small, waist-level figures with glaives. Venser was able to knock them out for a few seconds with a simple short-range magnet pulse and slip through the doors.

The room beyond was a glass-enclosed space surrounded by a short, square hallway.  On the other side of the glass the babies lay in intricate filigree cradles, lined with aether tubes and all sorts of mechanisms that made each one look like a gutted scorpion. The children inside were swaddled in soft burgundy cloth.

A single vedalken nurse stood within the glass partition tending to the children. Thankfully, her back was turned at the moment Venser entered and he had a split-second to duck down beneath the lower half of the partition before she fully turned around.

He heard her approach the adjacent wall and he heard a panel slide open. Peeking around the corner, Venser saw her walk to a small desk and speak into a golden device set atop it.

“I’ve got the monitors all set up and the feeding automata all milked up for the rest of the night shift. I’ll return in four hours after I’ve had a rest shift.”

Then she exited, slippers padding against the floor.

 Venser waited a heartbeat before leaping up and tip-toeing to the door way. The section of wall slid aside under a gentle push, and he slipped into the observation space.

Mercifully, each cradle had a tag with the child’s surname on it. Venser realized as he started reading them that he had never planned for how to identify which child was the Nalaar’s. Thankfully Chandra was only one row away from the door, and he found her quickly.

Venser pulled out the ambulator and tracked the coordinates of the room, in case he needed to return for anything. Then he set it on an empty crib nearby and picked Chandra up out of the cradle. The swaddling was soft and silky; almost like velvet.

She was sleeping quite soundly. She looked healthy, as far as Venser could tell, although he had admittedly little experience with child-rearing. Her breathing sounded steady though, and when Venser tucker her against his chest she yawned loudly and set her head against his chest. She had her parent’s dark complexion and her father’s intense eyes.

“-a moment, I left something in here.”

Venser spun around in a panic. The nurse’s voice was right outside the door.

In one swift, panicked motion, Venser lay Chandra back down on the crib, and grabbed the ambulator up off the adjacent crib. It banged badly off the side of the cradle as Venser dove down toward the wall, and fell out of his hands, clattering at the feet of Chandra’s cradle.

Venser was about to grab it when he heard the outer doors swing open, and he pressed himself up against the partition, hoping desperately the nurse wouldn’t look too closely.

He could hear her footsteps pad down a portion of the hall toward the desk, and heard her mumble something unintelligible.

She stood at the desk for almost a full minute. Venser felt beads of sweat trace down his neck.

Then the padding sounded, moving away, toward the door.

Venser let out a sigh of relief.

The padding stopped.

For what felt like an eternity, Venser sat rigid, not even daring to breathe.

Then she started moving again, and the door closed behind her.

Venser let out a second, more restrained breath of relief, and stood back up. His heart was hammering badly, but he was already half done and-

The ambulator flickered, then a burst of blue light enveloped Chandra’s cradle, pulling it away from the plane.


	6. Out of the Pan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally on to some new planes! Kaladesh is great, but our story now turns to other worlds, as Venser races to find the displaced Nalaar child.

Venser stood there for a full minute, trying to process what had just happened. A new, more primal fear began to grip him as he remembered Pia’s fist clenched tighter than any he had ever seen, ready to beat anything that would keep her from her daughter to a pulp.

He swore softly, and rushed to the spot where the cradle had disappeared.

“Okay, Venser, stay calm.” He ran his fingers through his hair, willing himself not to start stress-scratching. “You’re a planeswalker. You’re a powerful artificer. What would a planeswalker do? Ummm….what would Teferi do?”

Venser had a sudden flashback of a handsome, blue-robed wizard constructing a handheld device that produced a sound like a balloon deflating whenever anyone walked past it.

“Mmmmm, okay, maybe not, um…what would Jhoira do?”

He thought of the Ghitu artificer, with her quick mind and seemingly relentless drive. She would have tried to find the child. She would narrow down where the child could have gone and then try each of those places in turn. Carefully. Methodically.

First things first. Venser reached into one of his pockets and withdrew a small piece of metal: a silver disk, with numerals carved all along the edge. Karn had given him the idea of fashioning a watch out of silver for interplanar travel, and it had proved invaluable for perfecting developing the second generation of ambulators. Now he could use it for tracking the flow of time across multiple planes for travel…

…and for determining how much time he had before two very angry inventors/ parents tore him apart for losing their child.

Venser took note of the current time. He figured he had at least the four hours the nurse had mentioned before anyone discovered what had happened.

Plenty of time.

He hoped.

He pulled out the tracker and watched as it clicked from location to location. The ambulator was bouncing. That was bad.

Venser stepped between worlds, following the trail of his device.

 

*

 

Seconds later he stepped from the blind eternities onto a grassy, windswept hillside. The air was clear, and the sky blue. As far as he could tell there was nothing in his immediate vicinity that wanted to kill, arrest, or otherwise bother him.

Better than most planes.

He peeled the bandages off his face as he started along the hillside, taking in his surroundings. In the far distance stood towers of white stone, capped in gold. Armored figures marched among them. Far enough away for him to find the portable ambulator and leave in peace.

Venser pulled his mask out of his satchel and slipped it on. It helped with his nerves.

A thin trail of black smoke was rising a few yards away along the hillside. The walker lay at the source of that smoke, half-buried in a small crater of upturned soil, and sparking erratically. It looked mostly intact, relative to past test runs, though Venser suspected the powerstone converter had blown, based on the smell and consistency of the smoke.

As if in conformation, the device sprayed sparks all over the grass as he lifted it up.

Venser was irritated about the converter’s failure for a full half-second before panic drove irritation out of his mind.

Where was Chandra?

The portable walker had definitely landed violently; a fall of at least 100 feet. If the child had still been with the device at the time…

He fell to his knees and started sifting through the soil. It was dark, rich stuff, more fertile and less poisonous than the dirt back in Urborg. And unlike the soil in Urborg, it was also mercifully free of human remains.

Nothing. Had the ambulator left Chandra on a different plane?

Venser made a quick scan of the surrounding hillside. He was no tracker, but the grass looked more or less undisturbed, save for where he had been walking.

Small groups of the armored figures were starting to move in closer. The smoke must have attracted attention against the otherwise clear skies. There was even an angel soaring ahead of the groups, making a beeline for Venser’s position.

Time to go.

Venser crouched down and grabbed walker, fiddling frantically with the travelogue box.

“Ummm…let’s see…Dominaria…Obviously, that’s where we started, um…Kaladesh, right…Mmmmm…Dominaria again; must have rebounded to the workshop first; that’s one bug fixed, at least…Unknown plane YT622…unknown XK956…Innistrad?” Venser swallowed. He really hoped the Nalaars’ child wasn’t on Innistrad.  “And, um….unknown plane XK955…” Venser looked around. Maybe he should ask where he was before leaving, for inquiry’s sake.

A roar came over the hills. A few of the knights were riding what he had first thought to be unusually bulky horses. He saw now that they were lions. Massive, heavy-hooved lions.

“Mmmm…maybe another time.”

He stepped backwards, and disappeared into the eternities.

 

***

 

“Are you quite certain you haven’t seen a child anywhere?”

“Out of my way, scrapper, or I’ll have the gargoyles set on you.”

 Venser managed to keep his feet as the short man's bodyguards shoved him aside. Their arms were a fascinating construction - a sort of dark, latticework metal that looked light, elegant...

...and very strong. Venser rubbed at the bruises along his arm as he staggered away. 

After planeswalking back to his workshop, Venser had overturned every workbench and table without finding the Nalaars' child. Thankfully the ambulator hadn’t left any destruction as it passed through the workshop either, assuming it had in fact passed this way. He still needed to program the device to track coordinates on his home plane.

Lacking any clear way of searching all of Dominaria, he had started scouring the planes recorded in the portable walker's log on-by-one, checking the exact coordinated the device had passed through on each.

The first walk had taken him to a temple built high in the mountains. The locals were cautious of Venser, but had kindly explained that the portable walker had burst through the wall of their meditation chamber, setting a portion of the ceiling on fire, then mercifully disappeared mid-flight before it could collide with the other wall. 

No-one had noticed a child at any point during the commotion, and a cursory check of the grounds had yielded nothing, so Venser left them a few pieces of gold for the roof and continued on. 

Now he was on this strange new world of artifice, caught between trying to find someone who had seen the portable walker pass through, and gaping at the fascinating creations all around him.

The place was almost like Kaladesh, if someone had sucked all the color and joy out of it.

And the friendliness. Even the urban wildlife here seemed hostile. Venser was keeping one eye trained on the many filigree-winged owls that roosted about the structures and swooped menacingly low whenever they took flight.

Venser checked his watch for about the tenth time in half as many minutes. An hour left to find the Nalaar’s child, or else he would never be able to return to the plane ever again. As he eyed the watch he was very conscious of the stares of the passer-bys. Most seemed to be eyeing his inventions with open and amused contempt.

Venser patted at his (admittedly plain-looking) ambulator. Appearances weren’t everything. Besides, the simplest welding torch in Ghirapur had more elegance than the harsh filigree of this world.

“You there!”

Even if he hadn’t already been extremely high-strung, Venser would have spun around immediately at the eerie, metallic bark that had sounded behind him. A sphinx, limbs and wings made of that same strange filigree metal, descended upon him, plate-armor mane immaculate save for a single corner which was stained with soot.

“Is that _your_ device, scrapper?” The sphinx pointed a metallic talon at the portable walker. “That confounded bit of trash nearly knocked me out of the sky an hour ago.”

“Th-this?” Venser patted the walker, not sure whether he wanted to shield it from the sphinx or use it to shield himself from the sphinx. “N-not mine, I – I just came across it, you see.”

“Give it here. Scrapping is too good for a dangerous bit of junk like that.”

The sphinx reached out to grab the device, and Venser backpedaled, walking out of the plane as he went.

Time for the next world.

…Time for Innistrad.

Venser lay three fingers against the portable-walker’s planar log. The device delivered three quick jolts to each finger, relaying longitude, latitude, and altitude of its last journey through the plane of horrors.

Then, with his lips pursed, Venser reluctantly stepped out of the blind eternities.

 

**

 

The worst thing about Innistrad, Venser had decided after his first visit, was how at any given time something seemed ready to leap out from behind the nearest corner and eat you alive.

In that context, it was almost a relief to arrive and find that everything was already on fire.

The people running and screaming all around Venser were much too preoccupied by their burning homes to pay him much mind. He had a brief, guilty image of the portable walker crashing through a roof and setting this little village on fire, but was simultaneously relieved and horrified to turn around and see the actual source of the flames.

Spindly devils scurried through the streets and over the rooftops, some holding torches, some breathing fire, and some with tails set on fire by devils holding torches. They cackled and screeched from atop burning buildings, and leapt upon human passer-bys to stab and claw them.

Altogether a terrible place for an abandoned infant to be.

A flaming ball of pitch went whizzing past Venser’s ear and struck a cartful of hay at his side. The dry straws ignited in seconds, and he dove aside as the wagon collapsed, sending fiery straw all over the street.

Correction: a terrible place for anyone to be. Venser would have planeswalked away there and then, if the thought of confronting Pia Nalaar without her daughter hadn’t been more terrifying than these rioting devils.

 A pack of the red-skinned fiends caught sight of Venser, attracted no doubt by the gleaming metal of the ambulator, quite unlike anything one usually saw on this plane. The devils started gibbering at one another, and three of them peeled off, running toward Venser on all fours.

Venser turned on his heels and ran, weaving through the crowd, ducking devils and various flaming debris. Most of the people around him were fleeing. A few, knights and guards by the looks of them, were alternately trying to fight off the devils and guide others away from the fighting.

It was a hopeless effort. Everywhere Venser looked, there were flames and chattering devils. Bodies were strewn underfoot, most of them human.

Venser rounded a corner, and his eyes went wide. He had found the town square, a wide flagstone area lined by strange, inverted omega symbols, with a wide, brick-and mortar well at its center.

And there, lying precariously atop the rim of that well, was a small bundle of dark, reddish cloth, with the faint wails of a child coming from within.

“Chandra!” Venser stepped forward.

Then something hit him.

It felt like someone had filled a sack of flour with needles and shot it out of a cannon right at Venser’s side. It knocked him off of his feet and drove his shoulder into the stones.

Venser wrestled with the thing, trying to get a grip on its wiry limbs, trying to keep the devil from clawing at his face. Panicking townsfolk were running around them on all sides, and Venser felt a heavy boot stamp down on his thigh as its owner fled.

The devil’s hot breath was on Venser’s face and neck. Its claws were digging into his side. He threw a glance at the fountain, and saw three more devils creeping toward the well, their eyes very clearly set on the burgundy bundle along the lip of the well. Desperately, Venser tried to roll away, but the devil kept him pinned and opened its mouth wide dozens of needle-like teeth ready to sink into Venser’s face-

-then the Devil jerked, as three silvery prongs thrust through the side of its face.

Those red, wiry hands unclenched, and Venser shoved the devil’s body away, scrambling frantically to his feet as he did so. A woman stood over him, clutching a pitchfork with both hands. Devil’s blood was running down the prongs and along the shaft, dark droplets falling onto the flagstones underfoot.

She jerked her head toward the closest alleyway.

“Get out of here! The town’s doomed!”

With that she sprinted off toward a different street, kicking a second devil in the side of the head as she went.

Venser staggered to his feet. The crowd was thinning as people abandoned the buildings and all the devils left them burning to chase down those fleeing. 

All the devils except for the trio approaching the fountain, focused entirely on the child. Slavering, needle-toothed grins decorated their faces.

“No!”

They didn’t even notice Venser shout as he scrambled to his feet. They were about ten feet from the well, and Venser was fifty feet away from them.

He started sprinting. Everything seemed to slow around him.

They were creeping closer.

Another devil dove at Venser’s feet. He managed to leap over it and it tumbled over the cobblestones.

One of the devils at the fountain produced a knife. A long trail of drool ran over its wrinkled lips and along its chin.

Forty feet. He wouldn’t make it in time.

A villager rushed across Venser’s path, driving the tip of a shovel into a devil’s throat. Venser just barely managed to spin around the man and keep running.

One of the devils by the well noticed Venser coming, and grinned. The other two loomed over the child.

Venser pulled the portable walker off his back and flipped a switch.

Another ball of burning pitch missed him by inches.

The devil raised the knife high in the air, giggling insanely.

Venser threw the walker, screaming at the top of his lungs as he did so.

The devils paused for a split second to watch the buzzing, sparking disk spin toward them, crackling with energy. There was a flash. A patch of blue-green energy bloomed over the well in an instant, and was gone just as quickly.

And with it the devils.

Venser nearly tripped over the edge of the fountain in his rush to reach the child. The swaddling was still secure, and he could hear a faint crying from within its folds. The stones that made up the fountain and courtyard were smoking slightly where the planar gate had unfolded, but the child was fine.

Venser lifted her up and held her close to his chest. He had worked with delicate artifice all his life, but just then, he was more afraid of dropping Chandra than he had ever been of breaking an invention-

“What in Avacyn’s name is that witchcraft?”

Venser looked up. He had been so focused on Chandra that he hadn’t noticed the square fall almost entirely silent. Devil and human alike were staring at him, taking the briefest of reprieves from tearing into one another. Further away, out of sight of the square, screams and evil cackles still sounded, muffled by distance and the crackling flames.

“Um…” Venser looked around at all the incredulous, hostile eyes. The ambulator activating would have appeared conspicuous and alarming, even in the midst of this carnage.

Some of the people were muttering amongst themselves. Venser heard the words ‘devilry’ and ‘witchcraft’ carry around the courtyard, among the now lowered chittering of the momentarily

 “Uh…oh no!” Venser pointed in the direction of one of the burning buildings. “Devils! Everybody RUN!”

That only served to draw more attention to himself. A few people did flee, and a few devils ran off after them, but a few others, a mix of devil and human, started advancing on him.

“Please, I’m just trying to save this child!” Venser’s throat felt dry. He couldn’t planeswalk now. He needed the ambulator to protect Chandra, or the blind eternities would rip her apart.

“This one’s a devil too,” one of the humans called out, ignoring the pair of actual devils padding in Venser’s direction, a splintery torch held aloft.

Venser spun around. There were figures advancing at him from all sides. They’d be on him in seconds, and he didn’t have time to leave Chandra, find the ambulator, and come back.

Chandra was starting to cry. By the dim firelight he could only see the faint online of her face. He had never tried planeswalking with a passenger. Teferi had talked about how dangerous it could be, and that was back when he’d been a living demi-god, for all practical purposes.

A devil leapt at Venser, trailing smoke and embers.

Venser held the child close to his chest, and planeswalked away.


	7. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally the end! (Or close to it; still have an epilogue in to post~) Thanks for waiting :)

 

Chapter 7

 

For several long seconds, Venser kept his eyes shut. The folds of the blanket pressed against his chest, and the suggestion of something inside, but he heard nothing. His heart hammered in his chest. He couldn’t have just left a child to die surrounded by devils. He couldn’t have.

“Ah?”

He nearly cried with relief as the small gurgle of wonder sounded from the blanket’s folds. Then another, and another, as the child took in the sounds of the new surroundings.

With a sigh of relief, Venser lowered Chandra into the cradle. He ran his hands over his arms, chest and legs, probing to see if he’d been cut or burned at all in the excitement.

No wounds. That was fortunate.

Chandra began to cry. The swaddling had covered up her face at some point during the planeswalk. Venser started to work it loose so it didn’t smother her.

“Lucky for both of us you made it through the eternities with only a blanket mix-up, little one.”

The cloth felt frayed rough, almost like burlap, and the color had faded somewhat to a duller red. Perhaps from the stress of the ambulator travel? But inorganic material didn’t just change like that during a planeswalk…

“You!”

Venser jumped. Luckily Chandra was already in the cradle, or he’d have certainly dropped her.

“Who are you?”

The vedalken nurse was there, advancing into the room, anger in her eyes. “Kidnapper! Thief!”

Venser only had a second. If he didn’t take her away now…

“Guards!!”

It was too risky. He was lucky Chandra had made even a single trip without the protection of the ambulator.

Venser retreated into the blind eternities just as a six-fingered hand closed around where his head would have been.

 

***

 

It was several hours before he felt ready to return to Ghirapur. Venser spent the intervening time pacing around his workshop, trying to figure out what he would tell the Nalaars. He had promised something big, then delivered nothing more than a disappointment.

He glanced at the ambulator on his workbench, still spitting up the occasional spark. Par for the course.

Venser sighed. Best to tell the truth. Best to offer apologies and help Kiran raise the money to pay the consulate fees. They had been kind hosts, and potentially key allies in getting his skyship scheme off the ground.

This time he ‘walked straight into their home. Pia and Kiran were leaned up against the window railing, their heads close together. They looked as though they’d been whispering to one another, but they both perked up when they caught site of Venser. The sight of their smiles lifted Venser’s spirits for a fleeting moment. It was comforting to see them.

And now he had to disappoint them.

Before he could get a word out, however, Kiran wrapped him in a hug.

“You’re a wonder-worker! We just heard from the hospital!”

Venser blinked, trying not to look too openly confused. “Just…just heard?” Heard that their daughter was still in consulate custody?

Pia smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “You gave them quite a scare. The nursing staff all revolted and insisted that the children be sent home for their own safety. After that the other parents apparently began raising all sorts of complaints and…they’re letting us take Chandra home!”

“That’s…that’s fantastic!” Venser felt a little dizzy. Things had worked out almost suspiciously well, but he wasn’t about to look a gift kavu in the mouth. “When?”

“Immediately. Ms. Pashiri volunteered to bring her back.” Pia rested a hand on her husband’s chest. “I would have run off myself but Kiran insisted I stay here and rest.” She moved her hand up and caressed the side of his face. “As if I could rest when I’m about to see my daughter again. I had hoped she’d be back by now but…well, consulate bureaucracy always slows down the important things.”

“You impressed Oviya quite a bit,” Kiran added. “I think she’ll be happy to introduce you to some of our, ah…our colleagues in the business of skyships.”

Venser nodded. “I’d be happy to accept, but…” He looked out the window. The sky above was a pure blue, traced with spirals of cloud. A golden ship drifted overhead, held aloft on trails of pure aether. “…I need to perfect these designs before I ask any more of your world. Artificial planeswalking might be beyond me, but I need to be as sure as I can be of its reliability before I ask anyone else to gamble on it.”

Kiran’s smile had slackened, but Pia nodded, understanding.

“You could stay here and work on it. There are no shortage of crafters and smiths who would give anything to be part of such an invention.”

“That’s…that’s very kind.” He regarded the both of them; it would be pleasant. This city was inspiring, for all its restrictions, and couldn’t remember the last time he’d had company as wonderful as the Nalaars had been…

Venser shook his head. “Dominaria has too many artifacts important to my studies. Artifacts too large and too volatile to bring back here. I’ll work there, as long as it takes, and return when I have something…something trustworthy. Something that can really help, and not just cause trouble.”

“You’ve not been any trouble at all.” Kiran bit his lip. “We’ll, no more trouble than a good citizen should get up to normally. But, if you have to go, you have to go. I hope to see you again soon.”

“Thank you. I’m…I’m glad your family is together. I look forward to giving little Chandra a chance to see other planes someday soon.”

Kiran laughed. “Try not to take too long. Kaladesh doesn’t wait on anyone.” He hugged Venser, then stood aside to let Pia do the same.

Venser grinned back at them. “No world does.”

 

*

 

Seconds later, Kiran was staring at an empty space. There was no sign Venser had been standing there seconds ago save for the rich, earthy smell he left behind.

“What a strange week, my love.”

Pia laughed. “And trying. Hopefully it’s good practice for parenthood.”

Kiran said nothing, but drew his wife tighter in his arms. “I can’t wait to see her. I can’t wait to show her the world. I wonder how long before she’s the greatest metalsmith in the city.”

“Fah.” Pia pushed him away playfully. “She’s going to be a master artisan like her mother.”

“I hope she does get all of her mother’s wonderful traits.” Kiran smiled at her. “Even her stubbornness.  _Especially_ her stubbornness.”

Pia collapsed on a pillow by the table. “I’d like that. Right now though, I think I’d just like tea.”

As Kiran prepared a pot by the stove, he watched his wife, looking out over the city from their window. The worlds beyond his world excited him, but they were terrifying to consider. He would be happy to see Venser again, but he didn’t envy the man for facing the dangers of multiple worlds.

“Here.” He brought a tray of cups to the table. Two for them, and one for Oviya once she arrived. “Something to settle the stomach.”

She just took it with a nod and smiled at him.

A knock came minutes later. The spell of serenity broke, and Pia jumped to her feet, hot tea sloshing around in the cup. Kiran was a half-step behind her. He could feel a smile threatening to tear his cheeks.

The look on Oviya’s face almost wiped the smile away. Her lips were pursed, and her eyes were fixed on the bundle in her arms. When Pia reached for it, she moved back half a step.

“Pia…Kiran…Could we sit first?”

Pia’s brow creased but she nodded, and they all moved back to the window. She hung close to Oviya, caressing at Chandra through the silken hospital swaddling.

“Oviya…let me see her. What is that matter?”

Lips still pursed, Oviya reached into the folds of her sari and pulled out a second piece of cloth. A dull reddish-brown, made of something coarse. Perhaps burlap?

“My contact at the hospital was called in to help with the…situation your friend caused last night. Preparing the children before the parents arrived. She told me that the nurses took this off of Chandra and replaced it before handing her over. They tried to dispose of it, but my contact retrieved it and handed it off to me.”

“They had my child wrapped in this?” Pia’s face flushed in anger. “In this sackcloth?”

Oviya tipped the bundle in her arms forward. “They had _a_ child in that cloth.” She looked up from the Chandra’s face to theirs. “I’m sorry. I did what I could to get an explanation from them but…I don’t know what happened to her.”

“Chandra!” Pia lunged forward and grabbed her daughter from Oviya.

Kiran tried to swallow the lump in his throat. _Was_ that Chandra? The child in front of him was sickly pale…almost unnaturally pale. Her hair was so vividly red it looked as if it had been dyed.

Certainly she looked nothing like him or Pia.

“Is…is that?”

“It’s her, as far as I can tell. My contact didn’t witness any children get switched out, and I stayed with her until all the other parents had come to claim their children. If there was a mix-up they hid it well, but not well enough to properly get rid of…well whatever this is.”

She spread the cloth over the table. A strange symbol had been crudely stitched into the sackcloth in black thread. A sort of open circle on a stick, with points on the end. Like a horseshoe? Beneath that a crude angel had been stitched in grey thread.

“I…I’m not sure what it means. But I’m looking into it.”

Pia hugged the child close to her chest. “It’s fine Oviya. It’s fine. She’s back with us now, that’s what matters.”

Kiran and Oviya exchanged looks. He wondered if she was also picturing Venser stepping out of existence and then back again with that horrible metal head. Oviya shook her head and inclined it toward Pia.

Tears had streaked his wife’s cheeks, but her face was resolute. She moved closer to him.

“Look Kiran. She’s beautiful still. She’s our beautiful daughter.”

The child stared up at them, wide-eyed. It might have been Kiran’s imagination, but she was smiling up at them. She was alive and energetic.

He took her gently out of Pia’s arms and held Chandra to his chest. She cooed and smacked her hand softly against his chest.

She was theirs now. Theirs to raise and protect and love.

“Welcome home, Chandra.”


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the final final end to this story (finally). Thank you so much to everyone who read this one; I hope it was worth it :)

****

_13 years later_

 

_Dominaria_

 

Radha strode across her war camp, cheers and the sounds of revelry in her wake. Her shoulders ached, and blood spattered the front of her leather armor, but she held her head high, grinning broadly from ear to pointed ear.

Another conquest. Another portion of Keld united under her control. It had been a good day.

But not perfect.

She looked down at the broken blade in her hand. The sword had been one of her favorites; reforged from a cache of ancient keldon weapons her host had discovered months earlier. And now she only had half of it.

Her warriors hailed her as she passed. She waved and returned their victorious shouts. She raised the broken sword and they cheered even louder. Powerful as a testament to her success, but she needed a whole blade for the campaigns ahead.

Demahld, her chief smith, gave the weapon a bemused eye when she threw it down on his workbench.

“Fier’s teeth. What happened here?”

“Some spineless son of a worm broke it in the raid today. I left the rest of it in his throat.”

Demahld raised a heavy eyebrow. “Spineless…you let a coward break your weapon?”

“No, I removed his spine after I relieved him of his life. I had some frustrations to work out.” She tapped her knuckles on the worktable. “I need a better one.”

“My smiths are the very best. You will have your superior blade.”

Radha sneered. “So you say. Prove it.”

Demahld grinned, stood, and barked at the smiths hammering away behind him.

“Our grand warlord needs a blade! Which of you disgraces to Keld has something worth her while?”

The smiths, already at rapt attention since Radha had entered the forges, scrambled to their stockpiles to pick out weapons for her consideration. She walked down the aisle between their fires and tables with Demahld close behind, considering a collection of knives, axes, swords, and bludgeons.

Each smith proffered their prize pieces as she passed. Strong Keldon work, all of it, but she needed something exceptional.

A few of the weapons caught Radha’s eye. One axe was cunningly crafted to look like a leaping ox, but proved too top-heavy for her tastes. A pair of daggers had exceptionally good balance, but reminded Radha too much of the Pardic-style blades the planeswalker Jeska had wielded against her.

Radha stopped in front of a worktable near the back of the forges. A short, stocky keldon stood behind it, his apprentices huddled together several paces back. His selection was unremarkable save for…

“Interesting markings.” Radha lifted a sword from his table. It was short but broad, with a heavy spine and a tip that curved back like a hook. Its shape was classically Keldon, but it had been forged with swirling spiral patterns that made her think of the wind. “This is yours?”

The smith was sweating more than the heat of the forges should have caused. “Apologies warlord, I-”

“Excellent balance.” Radha spun and flourished the blade in the aisle. It even felt like wielding the wind. “Feels good in the hand. I could cut through fire with this.”

“Of..,of course warlord! The fruits of my skill and labours!”

Radha looked down her nose at the fellow. “I’ve never seen a blade like this on any of my warriors. Why is that?”

“Ah, that is-”

“Such a good weapon. Have you been holding out on your fellow keldons?”

“I-I would never, warlord! That is-”

“And these…decorations…how did you make those?”

“I-uh…”

“Is there a tongue in that mouth of yours? Use it while you still have it.”

“ _I_ made it.”

The forges went absolutely quiet, save for the roaring crackle of many fires. Radha moved the smith aside with one hand and stared hard at the clutch of apprentices and smith-hands.

“Speak up. Keldons don’t whisper.”

One of the girls stepped forward. She had dark skin, like the suq’ata, or like one of the fa’adiyah that had been displaced to Dominaria during the rift crisis. Radha’s host had taken in more orphans and outsiders over the years than she could count.

The girl’s eyes were intense, and met Radha’s without blinking. She was thin, but the arms that poked out from her sleeveless leather vest were well-muscled from wielding a hammer.

“You made this?”

“I did.” There was no waver in her voice. Good.

“How? The way you’ve crafted this metal…it’s Keldon but it isn’t.” Radha jerked her head at the short smith.  “Did he teach you this?”

The girl shook her head. “It was my own idea. I-” She cut off suddenly.

“A keldon doesn’t fear to speak her mind. What is it?”

“I saw it in my dreams, warlord. The way to forge it. To make it strong to cut down our enemies.”

Radha’s fingers tapped along the hilt of the sword. “Dreams, hmm? This looks like something from a different world. Not a planeswalker, are you girl? I’ve no use for plane-hoppers in my warhost.”

“No!” The girl’s response was pleasingly harsh. “I am born of Keld! Forged by its flames! Born of its flames!” She beat a fist against her breast to drive the point home. “And by my own flame I will make Keld triumphant!”

“Born of flame? Quite a claim.” Radha held up the blade. “But you’re on your way to proving it.”

Demald walked up to Radha’s side. “Skive brought us this one, warlord. Found her crying on a patch of scorched rock and burning metal, apparently. Said it seemed right leave her with the forges.”

Radha nodded. “Wisely done. Take our friend here under your wing. I want to see what else she has to offer the host.” She gave the blade another flourish, then brought it down on the worktable in front of her. The thick slab of wood split with a loud crack and fell to the straw-covered floor. “What do you call this blade, child?”

The girl’s eyes were wide as she regarded the table, but she responded crisply. “Aethersteel, warlord!”

“Aethersteel…a good name for a blade…” Radha shouldered the blade and set a hand atop the girl’s black locks. “But…an even better name for a Keldon.”


End file.
